


Even The Lies

by Tamuril2



Series: Walking in the Stars [7]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamuril2/pseuds/Tamuril2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Sequel to 'Ugly Truth'. Elim has reached Starfleet, but the Obsidian Order isn't far behind. Will his new allies throw him back, now that they have their information, or will they prove to be faithful? No slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even The Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by fantasiesfuture. She really helped me get the ending right. Thanks, dear!

Well…

Starfleet ships _certainly_ had a different build to them; a more relaxed air. The people on board trusted each other far more than they should. They smiled outright to each other; walked  with a casuality that astonished Elim. A touch  of a hand or pat on the shoulder also seemed normal (Elim couldn’t be sure though, he’d only caught a few glimpse of these actions as he passed by). Nobody seemed as if they feared for their lives.

 _Though you know how decieving appearances can be._ Elim hid a grimace. _They’re why you’re here, after all._

In the hallway, on their way to the Captain, Elim had the privalage to witness one such friendly exchange though. They’d stopped just outside of the turbolift, and Elim could just see into the tiny corador to their left.

A yellow shirt lieutenant clapped a young man in red. “George!”

Elim expected the other man to stiffen, look afraid, or, at least, nervous. This was his superior leaning over him, after all.

The red haired man grinned wide. “I got it, Frank. I actually got it!”

“I told you so, didn’t I?” The lieutenant, Frank, chuckled. “And you doubted me.”

 _Now,_ Elim thought. _His superior will iniciate his attack now._  

George rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I bow to your great knowledge, Oh Wise One.”

The blatent disrepect caused Elim to stiffen, which made his guards lock hands on their side arms. HE forced himself to relax, even as he feared he might be witness to a brutal disaplining.

However…

The yellow shirt smirked. “As well you should, young grasshopper.”

“Do you ever get tired of being right?” George asked, though his tone belayed his benign and friendly intentions. This was not a man who felt any resentment about being in the wrong. Rather, amused, if anything.

“Not a bit.” Frank leaned against the wall. “You figure out the next part of the puzzle?”

“There’s another part?!”

Elim never got to know which puzzle Frank had given George, or what the answer was. The turbolift doors opened with a soft hiss and his guards marched him in. As they shut, Elim resisted the urge to shake his head in disbelief. He couldn’t begin to imagine going up to a subordinate and clapping them on the shoulder. In Cardassia, the only thing that would have encouraged was a quick stab to the guts, or an intense look into your private communications (because you obviously had something wrong with you, and the State could ill afford such things). 

 _None of them are afraid._ Elim swallowed. _They_ trust _each other._

Here, Elim only saw a people ready to defend their own and those under their protection. Hence, why they exuded a danger all their own. Those shields and torpedos weren’t just for show, after all. And for all their cavalier attitude towards each other, they ran this ship with a strict precision. All knew their roles, and when to do them.

However, whereas Cardassian ships relied on power – both physical and mental – to make their ships the best, Starfleet seemed to focus on making their ships welcoming. A holographic room where people could…play? It still astounded Elim. Why waste resources for such trivial prosuits? It would be one thing if they used the places for training perposes – and they were, but not just that.

 _Maybe that’s the difference?_ Elim considered as they exited the turbolift and crossed the silent bridge.

Starfleet cared, actually _cared_ , for it’s people. They didn’t see them as assets or weapons. They wouldn’t use them to their full extent, and then discard them when they could no longer proform. Elim still didn’t know if he quite trusted them to defeat his people, but…well, he’d placed his bets on the table of Fate, so really he had no one to blame but himself, if things went wrong.

They entered a side room – Elim recalled it being called the Waiting Room, from the Cardassian intel. Once in, he was moved to a stratigeically placed seat and made to sit down. Elim didn’t resist and rested his hands on the sleek table, clasping them together in a show of, hopefully, frank vulnerabilty. He didn’t yet know what gestures would be acceptable to this race.

On Cardassia, clasping ones hands like this meant that they gave the other party more control. They would need extra time to get to their weapons. Time that could be used to kill them. Here, with this Starfleet captain, Elim didn’t know if such a move constituted the same thing.

He hoped so.

For his sake, if not Cardassia’s.

The greying human relocated in his own seat. A telling move of nerves, but Elim understand that, and let it go. The captain – Harper Collens – picked up one of the data logs. “This is quite a revenue of intelligence, Mr. Garak.”

Elim said nothing.

The human raised an eyebrow. “One might almost say, too much. Some would question why a peson of such…low (and there was a definite hint of disbelief here)…upbringing and social status could get all this sensative information.”

Oh, there was more than a little doubt in those words. Elim hurried to assure Collens, and his surrounding security guards. “But then one would have to remember that as a gardiner and housecleaner, the recipiant would be in one of the best positions to be invisable. Tell me, Captain, do you notice when your gardiner, housecleaner, or ensigns is in the room?”

“Yes.”

“All the time?”

A slight pause. The frown became more pronounced.

Elim inclined his head. “Exactly, you don’t. Neither did my employer. I saw and heard a great many things. Too many, if I must be honest. I knew my usefulness would be ending soon. My employer might not have known the full extent of my prying, but he knew enough to start the process of my elimination.”

Yes, this was the card Elim would play today.

The one where he valued his life above all else. He’d toyed with showing the one where he dispaired of Cardassia’s future. Where he dreamed of Tain bringing his entire world, his people, its death. But Elim had discarded that idea as too maudlin. This, the self preservation, would be much more believeable to these humans.

 _Let them think I care for nothing but myself._ Elim could live with that, if they took Cardassia’s threat seriously, and used his Intel to its full potential.

Collens put the data stick down with care. “Perhaps. Or one might say you were a double spy. Playing both sides? Or biding your time to see which one will be stronger.”

“There is that.”

“And then there’s the man you brought with you.” Collens lips twitched. “Not a very good hostage.”

Elim made sure to relax ever last one of his muscles. He’d made sure, on the trip over the border, to erase any and all information on the young man’s genetic enhancements. He knew how fickle Starfleet was on the subject, and, in a rare show of compassion, didn’t want to inflict anymore hardship on the doctor. To anyone here, the young man was nothing more than a victim of pure circumstance, nothing more.

Elim gave a grim smile. “He was never meant to be a hostage.”

“A good will gesture?” Collens shook his head. “I’m afraid Starfleet Command is more than a little skeptical. I’m sure you were told all about how humans value life. Made sure to pick a young one to emphasize your maneuver.”

“Yes.” Why not admit it? Elim had nothing to hide here – besides his real status in Cardassia.

Collens face twitched again.

 _Didn’t expect that, had you?_ Elim mused with more than a little smugness. Good. He liked throwing people off guard. Gave him a bit more control over the situation. And Oralius* knew Elim needed as much leverage as he could get right now. He held very little in the way of power here.

If Collens decided to toss him out an escape hatch, no one would contest it – well, Elim might, but then no one really cared about his rights at the moment, not really.

“But really, Captain,” Elim continued smoothly. “We’re just stating the obvious. You don’t trust me. And I don’t truly trust you yet.”

“Then why come to us?”

“Because you are the better option.”

The wrinkles around Collens eyes eased a bit, as if that last one had made the most sense. “Starfleet will still wish for a more in-depth interview when we arrive at Space Station 9.”

“Of course. I shall endeavor to help them as much as I can.”

 

** 0/0/0/0/0  **

 

The wailing emergency siren turned on as Elim stepped into his cell (really it was more of a stark room, nothing at all like the cells on Cardassian ships). Elim glanced up at flashing strip of red light. An interesting invention, that. He’d have to keep it in mind, for when ( _if_ , his mind put in) he returned to Cardassia. It caught attention and make the situation more urgent.

Elim wonder – feared – what had caused such a display of arms.

Ah well, he could do little to aid by standing in the middle of the cell, staring at the light. He crossed over and sat down on the bed. Then he closed his eyes and focused on blocking out the alarm. Not fully, of course. On the off chance someone did came to him, Elim wanted a few of his sense alert enough to answer them right away. It also gave these Starfleeters less opportunities to sneak up on him.

Elim eased the tension from his shoulders. Breathe in. Waves on the beach. Breathe out. Cooking meat on the skillet (an old invention, but one Elim loved to use in his off time). Breathe in. Sand between his toes. Breathe out. Someone ordering his cell opened.

“Captain’s orders,” the mystery voice said from the black void.

Elim opened his eyes.

A security guard, yellow shirt, broad chest, strode up. “Get up. Captain wants to see you.”

Ah.

The Order had found them.

A pity.

Elim had hoped Starfleet would outrun them, get far enough away from the border to make a chase reckless. But wishing would not ever helped anyone, so Elim pushed off his knees and stood. “Of course.”

The alarm no longer blared, but the red light still shone bright as they hurried through the hallways. A few personal passed them – even throwing Elim a pointed glare – but no one said a word, and quickly got out of their way. Oh yes, The Order had arrived. No other being could warrant such a quick response.

Elim wondered how Starfleet would hand him over. Transporter? Or by his own, stolen ship? The Order might demand that back as well. There were designs in it that could be useful to the Federation, after all.

They went up the lift, exited onto the bridge (the crew very pointedly did not look at them), and entered into the same room as before. Unlike earlier, however, Collens stood by a window, facing toward the looming Cardassian warship in the stars. The human clasped his hands together behind his back, his shoulder stiff, his head held high. A man with much fear and even more determination to not give into that emotion. Elim admired the man for it.

“Your people have come for you, Mr. Garak,” Collens said without preamble.

“I had hoped they would not.”

“But you thought they might?”

“Of course. I am a traitor now. Those who betray Cardassia seldom live long.”

Collens turned around. “And you didn’t think to warn us about this possibility?”

“I had thought we would be too far into your Federation space for them to dare it.” Elim gave a seemingly nonchalant shrug. “I have been known to be mistaken, on occasion.”

“They say they will destroy us, if we do not give you over to them.”

As Elim had thought. Really, The Order held no surprises anymore. “When will I be transported?”

“You won’t be.”

“My ship then?” Perhaps he could rig the shuttle to explode before he crossed – and before his people detected the problem and transported him aboard. Maybe he could even cripple them, though that was a romantic thought at best.

“No.”

Elim tilted his head to the side and studied the human. “I’m afraid you have me at a loss then, Captain.”

“A rare occurrence, I’m sure,” Collens scoffed, his brown eyes an odd mixture of scorn and pity.

Elim narrowed his eyes in return. He didn’t like not knowing his odds. How could he plan if no one told him anything? How could he be sure to not get into The Order’s hands again? No, Elim really didn’t like how this human was playing on his insecurities. He’d thought the humans above such petty things.

“You’ll find humans really do value life, Mr. Garak,” Collens said, folding his arms across his chest.

Elim stiffened. “Captain…”

“Starfleet does not make it a habit of offering asylum and then negating it when things get tough.”

“You would risk your entire life, this crew?” Elim left out the ‘for me’. It hung in the air like a heavy weight.

Collens sighed. “Personally, I’d prefer not to, but we did give our word, and you’ve held up your end of the bargain. The Valiant and Corrosant are both on their way. We hold out for fifteen minutes, and you get to keep your date with Section 31.”

Wonderful.

Although, Elim would rather speak with Section 31 than The Order. At least Section 31 had rules, for now, The Order did not – oh, they did have rules, but they mostly consisted of kill any who opposed. Either way, Collens statement floored Elim. These humans would risk their lives? For him?

Not even his own mother had done that.

And Elim knew this for a fact.

“Do you know their frequencies? Shield codes?” Collens asked.

Elim shook his head, too bewildered to stop the action. “Codes…yes, yes of course. 24567-6785Alpha, should allow you to penetrate them. No more than a few shots though, so makes them count.”

Collens forehead wrinkled.

Too much information for a mere gardener? Well, Elim would worry about it later. “Who do you think let guest in through the door, Captain? I knew a few things, although they might have changed these codes. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Neither would I.” Collens nodded to his guards. “Take him back. I’ll let you know if there’s anything else you can do for us, Mr. Garak.”

“Please do, Captain,” Elim said with a slight bow of his head.

 

** 0/0/0/0/0 **

 

The codes had been changed, that much Elim could tell. The shutters and jerks of the ship as it was bombarded clued him onto this. The security guard outside his cell struggled to maintain his footing as they rocked every few seconds. Ah well, he’d tried. Perhaps he might yet persuade them to let him…but no, they were too noble for that.

The fools.

No Cardassian would risk their lives for such a menial thing as saving a refugee. The lives of the whole went before the life of one. But then, it seemed humans were faulted that way. Logic would dictate a Vulcan to surrender. Profit led a Ferengi. But a human? Humans let their hearts’ guide them. Fools.

Elim’s security guard stumbled in as another explosion shook the ship. When a repeat hit followed instantly after the last one, the man nearly fell over, crashing into the wall instead. He steadied himself with a hand and then pushed off. The human staggered to the front of Elim’s cell and keyed in the passcode.

“Captain wants you.”

“Of course,” Elim said, expertly maintaining his footing as he stepped out. He’d been trained by Tain himself, after all, so these little sways from the blasts were nothing to him. Though….perhaps they might be more of a hindrance to a mere gardener. That in mind, Elim let himself stumble along more often, as they passed through the hallways of the ship.

They arrived on the bridge to organized chaos and fear.

“Shields at 30%, Captain!” a young human shouted from the left com. “We won’t stand too many more hits like this!”

“See if you can draw axillary power from life support in the cargo bays,” Collens said, seemingly unfazed by the brutalizing of his ship. The man glanced at Elim and then back at the screen, upon which was displayed a large image of a Cardassian warship. An older version, if Elim wasn’t mistaken. But still more than a match for this Starfleet ship.

Collens surged to his feet and turned to Elim. “Your codes only worked for one shot. Any suggestions, _gardener_?”

Now was the moment to prove his stance, once and for all.

“I suggest, Captain, that you rotate your shield frequencies in an intermittent ionic loop. It will deflect their phasers for a short time.”

Collens nodded and motioned for his tactical officer to do just that. Another bright red beam shot across towards them, but the muffled thump told them all they needed to know. It hadn’t damaged the ship too badly. Elim rejoiced that his assumption had worked so well.

Suddenly, a crewman yelled and his station exploded in a spark of white flames. The crewman screamed, clawing at his face, and then fell to the floor. For a moment, no one moved. Then two of the humans jumped up; one to the ruined station, one to the fallen man. After a second, the one by the crewman shook his head.

“Ryelds is dead, sir.”

“Call, medical to get him.” Collens strode across the shuddering bridge. “All senior staff, with me.” He signaled to Elim’s guard. “Come, Mr. Garak. I think it was high time we ironed out some things.”

With that, they all moved into the Waiting Room. The doors hissed closed behind them. Silence. And then Collens turned. His aging face held an anger not unlike Tain’s when faced with an unruly recruit. The human clasped his hands behind his back. “I think it’s safe to say you were never a gardener, Mr. Garak. My guess, you’re a solder. A high ranking one, at that.”

Elim said nothing.

“I know a soldier when I see one, Mr. Garak.”

“I was but a simple gardener, Captain.”

“Mr. Garak, in all likelihood, we’re about to die. One of my men _is_ dead, because of this. Let’s not banter with words, shall we? You were a high ranking, military operative. Something happened, you switched sides. And now we’re paying for it.”

“I _did_ suggest you hand me over, Captain.”

“Yes, I suppose it could be seen that way, couldn’t it?” Collens drew in a breath. “But I never was one for crawling away, tailing between my legs.”

One of the senior staff, the tactical officer, shifted. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” Collens almost sighed, looking as if he knew where this conversation might be headed.

“The Cardassian’s right, sir. We’re not going to win this. Why not hand him over, wait for reinforcements, and then get him back?”

“And you think we’ll get him, Lieutenant?”

“Sir!”

“Enough!” Collens drew in a breath. “This is my ship, last time I checked. And we’re Starfleet officers. We do not negotiate with terrorists. Ever. The Cardassians are never going to let us go. We’ll either be taken as prisoners of war – which, I guarantee you, you don’t want – or be blasted out of the sky the moment they have him.”

Silence met his words. A few officers threw glares at Elim, but none contradicted Collens.

“Good.” Collens straightened his shirt. “Now, let’s get back out there. We’ve a warship to fight.”

The bridge had degraded back into chaos. Sparks flew everywhere, and tiny fires burned here and there. Elim’s heart sank. He’d left his world, only to die on this ship.

“Shields at 26%, Captain!”

“Photons at the ready.”

“Shields at 20%”

The ship lurched dangerously to the right. Several men and women tumbled to the ground, scrambling to get back to their posts. Collens gripped his chair, knuckles white. “Fire on my mark.”

“Shields at 16%!”

“Fire!”

“Minimal damage to their weapons array, Captain.” A crewman reported. “They’re firing again! Shields at 10%! 9!”

Elim’s stomach churned.

“Shields have failed, Captain!”

“All crew, report to the escape pods now. This is an order from your captain. All crew, report to the escape pods now.” Collens leaned back in his seat as his men and women scurried to evacuate the bridge. Collens glanced at him. “That means you too, Mr. Garak.”

“Captain,” Elim said, stepping forward. His guard grabbed his arm, but Elim locked his gaze with Collens. “Let me speak to them, Captain. Surrender myself.”

“I think we passed that option a while ago, Mr. Garak.” Something bleeped and Collens stood to check the com. “Ah, your friends are hailing us.”

The screen fizzled until a Cardassian face appeared. “Captain, as you can see, you are defenseless. We will be confiscating your ship and reclaiming our lost citizen.”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow you to have this ship, sir,” Collens said, back straight.

“You have no other option, Captain.” The Cardassian smirked. “Your shields are down.”

“But the auto destruct is not.”

The Cardassian blinked. “You would kill your own men for this traitor?”

“I thought you said he was only a lost citizen?” Collens raised an eyebrow.

The Cardassian bristled. “I thought the lives of your men would mean more to you than one Cardassian.”

“Well,” Collens smirked himself. “I’ve been told he’s an excellent gardener.”

Whatever else Elim’s people might have said, or done, would forever be lost to fate, because, at that moment, two Starfleet ships came out of warp. Elim could imagine their weapons were ready, and these ships, unlike this one, were much more able to fight. The Cardassian on their screen scowled down at his readings and then glared at them.

“It seems fate has sided with you this day, Captain.”

Elim held his breath. They could very well destroy them still, in a fit of rage. Collens, too, seemed tense. But then the Cardassian signed off and the screen showed them hurrying away into the Neutral Zone. Elim almost let his shoulders slump in relief, catching himself at the last moment and stopping the display of weakness. Collens had no such reservations. The human let out a loud sigh and closed his eyes.

“Rogers, see to it that Mr. Garak is placed back in his cell, if you please.”

“Yes sir.”

Elim followed his guard to the turbolift, but Collens called out to them as they reached it.

“I’ll be sure to note your assistance in this battle, Mr. Garak.”

Elim inclined his head. “I appreciate the gesture, Captain.”

He’d need it too, what with Section 31 interviewing him. Any bonus points could only help his cause right now. Now then, what _should_ he be telling Section 31? It would have to be good enough to gain access to a planet lifestyle, but not enough to risk seeming too much of a security threat. Decisions, decisions. But the lies were always the most fun to come up with anyway.

Especially the lies.


End file.
